


Your Reputation Precedes You

by Ghostinthehouse



Series: Demon and Angel Professors [100]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), Hugs, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:02:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25068100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse
Summary: The students lingered just inside the greenhouse after the lesson finished, gazing mournfully at the thin, cold, rain that had started to sift down outside. Phones were stared at, and heads turned one by one to stare at Crowley
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Demon and Angel Professors [100]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412962
Comments: 103
Kudos: 1169
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	Your Reputation Precedes You

The students lingered just inside the greenhouse after the lesson finished, gazing mournfully at the thin, cold, rain that had started to sift down outside. Phones were stared at, and heads turned one by one to stare at Crowley. For his part, he focused on stowing unused seeds in the correct drawers, only to be interrupted by a quietly stubborn student.

"Are you working with Professor Gabriel or Professor Fly?" The student made it sound as if there wasn't much to choose between the two.

"No!" Crowley snapped, "They're just a bunch of nasty scum running around campus blackmailing and tormenting people." He took a step forward as a shaken Aziraphale appeared in the doorway.

The students followed his gaze. A third of them formed a protective barrier around Crowley, blocking Aziraphale's path. The other two-thirds protectively circled Aziraphale, one of whom snarled at Crowley, "He's got Anthony. He doesn't need you as well."

Crowley went very still. His face went utterly blank. For the space of two of his slow breaths, there was an impression of flames, uttermost grief, and a voice screaming simultaneously close by and almost too far away to hear. Then his lips curled in the most mirthless smile any of them had ever seen. "You are correct," he said, and his voice was so low and quiet it could almost be mistaken for a hiss of static. "I can give him nothing that he doesn't already have." His chin went up as he gazed over the students heads at Aziraphale's frozen face. "Angel?"

Aziraphale wet his dry lips and said in a voice as hard as a hammered blade, "Let my Anthony through, if you please."

* * *

The students didn't budge, although some did look around for another person. They didn't intend to allow either of them to hurt the other, particularly when Dr Fell was barely holding it together as it was.

"Dr Anthony J. Crowley," Dr Fell said, and there was something both subtle and raw-edged in it, "your fame precedes you."

The students gaped. " _Anthony_ ?!"

"You don't like it?" Dr Crowley snapped. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Tough. You'll get used to it. Now do as he asks." He took an almost menacing step forward, then another, bony shoulders turned as if to force his way past. Despite themselves, the students flinched back from his glare, and then he was through and gathering Dr Fell into his arms.

Dr Fell took a gasping, sobbing breath, and buried his face in Dr Crowley's waistcoat. The students stared for a long moment, and then in a decisive ripple, turned their backs on the pair, merging the circles to give them a little privacy as well as protection. It wasn't so much the fierceness with which Dr Fell clung to Dr Crowley that decided them. It was the tenderness with which Dr Crowley held Dr Fell back.

He was humming too, some tune none of the students recognised, although after a few minutes, it turned into murmured words instead.

* * *

"Angel, I will hold you as long as you need me to, but if I don't sit down in the next couple of minutes I'm going to fall down."

Aziraphale pulled back, shifting his grip to support Crowley rather than cling to him. "Of course."

Crowley, in turn, didn't quite collapse onto the nearest bench. "Gabriel?"

"Yes." Aziraphale was all brittle tension under Crowley's hand. "I told him to cut it out, dear. He was less than pleased."

"I see."

The nearest student offered a phone. "It's in the chat."

"Really?" Aziraphale blinked, looking particularly innocent. "Dear me, I must have left it plugged in somehow. I'm just an old fuddy-duddy, you see..."

Crowley, who had watched his husband deftly hack into a lot of ebook textbooks in order to reactivate the text-to-speech function that some supposedly tech-savvy publisher had blocked, was wise enough to keep quiet and wave the phone away, saying only, "I'll read it later."

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a year, 100 parts, and precisely 66600 words since this series began. I just want to thank everyone who's come along for the ride, and all your amazing comments, kudos, and encouragement. I deeply appreciate all of it.
> 
> (And yes, of course it's a reveal for the 100th part, what else would it be?)


End file.
